All or Nothing
by Subject to Change
Summary: The biggest street race in the whole country is finally coming back to San Andreas and for Carl Johnson there's more riding on the line than just his car.
1. You need the money

3 Weeks until racing day…

"Carl, Carl!" the familiar heavily accented voice brought Carl out of his usual twelve-hour sleep, twelve hours to slowly kill his everlasting hang over from the night before. "CJ, wake up man! It's important!" Cesar Vialpando, long time friend and soon to be member of the Johnson family, screamed at the top of his lungs, standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac that ended grove street with both hands on either side of his mouth.

Carl rolled out of his small bed, hitting the floor painfully on his face. Grumbling Carl stood up, grabbing his dark green robe off of the floor and wrapping himself in it. Slowly but surely he stumbled down the second story hallway of his late mother's house, nearly falling down the stairs as he leaned into every step he took. After a lifetime of drowsy steps he made it out into the sunlit street and the anxious and impatient Cesar.

"Alright, alright, I'm here man, stop yellin'." Carl mumbled, holding his right hand over his eyes to shield them from the sunlight. "What's so important, Kendl have the baby or something?" Kendl, Carl's sister, had been pregnant for about seven and a half months, give or take, Carl wasn't really counting the days.

There was a brief look of disappointment on Cesar's face but he quickly hid it with enthusiasm. "CJ, you're never going to believe it!" he yelled, grabbing Carl's shoulders with both hands and shaking him. "The race, esse, the race is coming!"

Carl grimaced, shaking Cesar's hands off of his shoulders and taking a couple of steps back. "What fucking race man! You woke me up to tell me about some dumb street race? Kendl must be gettin' to you or something…" Carl turned around, walking back inside of his house, looking forward to collapsing on his bed and going back to sleep. "Street race, he wakes me up for a street race…crazy foo'."

Cesar followed Carl back inside, turning down his excitement to deal with Carl's current mood. Carl dropped onto an old blue couch in front of his big screen TV in the corner, nearly falling asleep on impact.

Cesar's lips curled downward. "Listen to me esse-"

Carl sat back up, his face a mixture of exhaustion and anger. "Damn it man, it's-" he paused, looking at the clock radio on top of the television. "It's fuckin' noon, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm sick of talking about racing with you!"

Cesar ignored him. "Listen to me Carl," Cesar growled. "This isn't just any fucking race I'm talking about, it's the mother of all street races in San Andreas homes." He moved in front of the television, making sure he had Carl's undivided attention. "It's the race that only comes here once every five years, everybody wants in-"

"Why's that?" Carl asked, still not sounding too interested.

"Because the pot is one of the biggest," Cesar said, leaning back on the television. "Seven hundred and fifty grand, not to mention every other racer's ride, it's a sweet deal esse."

Carl sat up at the mention of the money. "Seven hundred Gs?" Carl rubbed his stubble-covered chin. "Damn…that's pretty big…" money had been rather tight for Carl.

After Tenpenny and the riots three years ago things hadn't exactly quieted down like everyone expected them to. Madd Dogg had fallen back into drugs and alcohol, thanks to Kent Paul and Maccer's influence, costing Carl a sizeable chunk of his wallet to make the problem go away. Then the Ballas started attacking Grove Street, and of course everyone looked to Carl to cover the damages and to supply weaponry for every grove soldier to defend himself with. Then the cops wanted to be paid off every other day or ridiculous charges would be pinned to Carl. Not to mention the garage in San Fierro proved to be a never-ending problem that always needed money to make it go away. There were thousands of other things wrong, but long story short, Carl was broke.

Cesar nodded. "I know esse, you're the first person I thought of when I heard it was coming back. We both need the money, Kendl wants to leave the hood and with the baby on the way I agree with her, but I don't have the money for it, I barely had enough to buy into the race."

Carl cocked an eyebrow. "You have to buy in?" of course, to make money you have to spend money. "How much?"

Cesar put a lopsided smile on his face. "Fifty grand, I've been saving."

Carl sighed. "That's my little niece's college fund man," he stood up, grabbing Cesar by the collar of his white shirt. "I gave it to Kendl for the baby, not for you to piss away on some race!"

Cesar pushed Carl back. "Listen to me, Kendl will thank me for this when I come back with a garage full of sweet rides and a pocket full of thousand dollar bills."

Carl shook his head. "Do you even have a car? I mean how long is the race, tell me about this thing, I'm gonna have to know, I gotta make sure you win now."

Over the next half hour Cesar told him everything he could remember about the race. It was a three-day race across the entire state with only two rules; you have to check in at a certain location in each area, and that you not take off the tracer put on every racer's vehicle. Apparently they handed out maps at every checkpoint that would lead you to the next location. There were no set tracks, and no gun ban.

"You want in or not?" Cesar asked finally. "A lot of other sets are gonna be reppin' in this race, Ballas, Vagos, I'm rolling for Los Aztecas."

"I said I needed to make sure you won, and if the Ballas are gonna be in this shit I don't have a choice, man I don't want to think of the shit they could buy with that kind of money." Carl shook his head, they'd have enough money to restore Smoke's old crack empire, not to mention buy enough guns to roll into Grove Street and take over for good. "I've got just enough to buy in," Carl stood up, pulling the couch cushion up to reveal a small hole with a stack of dollar bills inside. "Beats the bank." He laughed, grabbing the money and tossing it to Cesar.

"I'll make sure to put it in for you…" Cesar stood up and began heading for the door. Quickly he turned his head. "There's one other thing I need CJ."

Carl, now lying back down on the couch, sighed. "Shoot homie."

"I need a car." Cesar said quietly. "My low rider won't cut it with these other racers."

Carl swore quietly, the truth was he needed a car, too. "I'll see what I can dig up…now get the hell out of my house!" he threw a magazine at the smiling Cesar.

* * *

The next day Carl had set out for San Fierro, the one place he could snatch a car and get it modified to his liking before the owner of the vehicle even noticed it was gone. Duane and Jethro were good mechanics; if it wasn't for all of the smoking they did things might actually have gotten done at the garage. Carl made a mental note that with his cut of the winnings, Cesar and he had decided to split the pot regardless of which one of them won, he'd higher better, more reliable, mechanics. 

It was midnight by the time Carl pulled his green Emperor into the ex-gas station he often spent most of his time, and money, on. Out of every one of his assets this had been the most promising but somewhere along the line things had gotten messed up and the garage hadn't even received a new coat of paint, let alone the repairs it so desperately needed.

Carl reluctantly got out of his car; reluctant because he really didn't want to deal with the mechanics and the mountain of problems he was sure they'd dump onto his shoulders. "Hello? It's Carl, your boss?" he called, opening the rusty metal door and walking inside. "Anybody here?" the lights were turned off and the usual cloud of smoke was gone.

After a minute of thorough searching Carl found a note taped to the office door.

_'Yo, CJ, we're taking some time off to go to the Vice City boat show, there's gonna be work for us there, sorry about not tellin' you before._

_Peace_

_-Jethro'_

Carl crumpled up the note and threw it behind him. It figured they had left, rats always abandoned ship first and this garage was sinking fast. "Who the hell's going to help me get the cars now?" Carl already had a good idea who he was going to call even as he asked the question.


	2. You need the rides

Two weeks, five days until racing day...

"Alright, everyone chill out." Carl called as he sat down on the wooden crate in the corner of the garage. "You all know why i called you here-"

"I'm uncertain as to why the blind man is here Carl." Zero said, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose as he glanced at Woozie from the corner of his eye. "I mean...can he drive? Can he fix cars?"

Wu Zi Mu, the lucky mole. A long time friend and more when Carl needed him to be. The two had gone into business together years back, opening up a casino on the Las Venturas strip. While it hadn't been simple opening the casino amongst all of the crime families and big corporations it had been even harder to run. Sit back and let the money roll in...sounded so simple when you left out the paying off crooked officials, running errands for big time businessmen, and trying not to get caught up in the drug game all the while big corporations turned the city into a vacation spot for the entire family to go to unwind. Whorehouses for dad, gambling for mom, and shows for the kids. The amusement park of the nineties.

"Woozie is here Zero," Carl said, eyeing the short man in the red hat and glasses. "Because he's been good to me, he's like a brother, and i owe him. Not to mention he has connections all over the city, you need to find something Woozie'll find it." Carl didn't mention the fact that Woozie could drive like no one else, he could even shoot like a pro despite being blind.

Eventually the casino buckled under the pressure and nothing Woozie or Carl could do was able to hold it up. It went bankrupt and Woozie caught the blame. If he hadn't been such a good earner and a loyal man a lot worse than being bumped down to running a betting parlor in San Fierro might have befallen the blind man.

"I'm more interested in why the chubby virgin is here Carl." Woozie shot back, a small self satisfyed smirk spread across his face. "I thought you had higher standards than that."

"Virgin!" Zero's head snapped back as if he'd been slapped.

"That is why they call you Zero, isn't it?" Woozie snorted.

"I'll have you know a certain someone procured me a lady of the evening for my thirty first birthday." Zero spat. "So i'd watch who you called virgin blind man."

Carl sighed and shook his head. Was this what he was reduced to now? "Jesus guys, chill the fuck out." getting up from the wooden crate and walking over to the small table where the two sat opposite of one another. "This is too important for you two to start arguing about dumb shit." he put his hands on the small table and leaned forward. "Now listen, we don't have a whole lot of time to get prepared for the race-"

"Yes, what is this race anyway Carl? Why is it so important?" Zero asked and Woozie snorted and shook his head.

"I'm not surprised you've never heard of it." Woozie said. "It's deeper than some RC car midnight club you host in your basement."

"Woozie would you chill...damn..." Carl stepped away from the table and moved back to the crate in the corner. "It's important because it pays good and that's all you need to know." he told Zero. "Now...can you help mod cars?"

Zero cocked his head to the side and looked off into space. "Theoretically the newer miniatures are no different from an actual car, and i have been known to...enhance a miniature's capabilities...so yes...i suppose i could...in theory of course."

Carl sighed. "Well...you're all i got so that answer's gonna have to do." between Cesar-who was a day overdue-Zero, and Carl they'd have to get two cars and tune them until they were fast enough to cut it with other racers' rides. Woozie would be the eyes and ears, keeping a lookout for good cars they could steal...the irony of using a blind man as a lookout was not lost on Carl. "So Woozie, any good leads yet?" Carl had called Woozie the day he'd rode into San Fierro, apparently Woozie'd been keeping an ear to the ground since.

"In fact, yes." Woozie said as he slid a hand into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. "I've gotten word of a couple cars that seem like suitable racers." he placed the envelope onto the table. "There's a small problem th-" Woozie was cut off as the garage door opened with a bang and in walked Cesar, a box in his arms.

"'Ey CJ, sorry i'm late man!" Cesar called, dropping the box next to the door and walking into the garage. He walked past the table, glancing at Woozie and Zero as he passed, before stepping up to Carl and grabbing his hand. "Took some time getting all the parts we're gonna need esse."

"It's cool man, you're here now." Carl patted Cesar's back before letting go.

"Can i go on now?" Woozie asked. Carl nodded. "You nodded, didn't you?"

"Shit, sorry Woozie...go ahead."

Woozie pursed his lips and nodded. "Alright...as i started to say before the interruption," he glared in the direction he thought Cesar to be-he was totally wrong. "There's a problem about the cars in this envelope. The cars are locked up tight under the SFPD."

"Shit." Cesar whistled. "Why don't you just ask us to steal a fucking tank too."

Woozie, who's temper had grown short in the past few years, shot to his feet. "I agreed to help you Carl because we're old friends, but if i'm going to be treated like a fool and have my favors go unappreciated then i'll just go."

Carl got to his feet and held his hands out. "Wait, wait, Wooze man, hold on...Cesar didn't mean anything by it...we're just...there's a lot riding on this man, we don't want to take any unnecessary chances is all."

Woozie paused midstep and sighed. "Alright...i understand." he turned to Carl. "There's one other car i've heard about that matches what you're looking for- but it belongs to a street racer named Chi Kim. He has his own little crew of Triad rejects that hang around him...not dangerous exactly, but he does have some connections that could make things difficult." he slid his hand into his jacket once more and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "Here are his details," he held the paper out for someone to take. "I had a feeling you might not like the idea of breaking into a police station."

Cesar snatched the paper from Woozie's hand. "Lives in the nice part of town, hangs out in the shit part...what kinda connections does he have?"

Woozie shrugged. "Dealers and pimps mostly...no one important." he turned back to where he thought Carl was. "If that's all?"

Carl nodded...then realized his mistake. "Yeah, call if anything else comes up."

Woozie nodded, turned, and walked out of the garage.

"You do realize that's only one car, right?" Zero asked.

Carl sighed. "Yeah...Woozie will find us another one...there's no way in hell i'm breaking into the SFPD..."

* * *

Carl slowed his car to a stop at the top of the windy windy road-at least that's what he called it. Chi Kim's house rested on the top of the hill. Carl sat for a few minutes, watching Chi's house, before he grabbed his cellphone and dialed Cesar. "Don't think he's home Ceeze, you got anything?"

"No," Cesar sighed through the phone. "Some guys stopped a while ago, but i haven't seen any street racers pass through...wait a minute..."

"What?" Carl cocked an eyebrow. "He there?"

"Yeah, and he ain't alone." Carl heard Cesar open his car door and get out. "Four other guys, nice cars, but not as nice as his...someone else is coming." Cesar grunted, probably just crouching behind something. "A van...guys with guns...i think they're doing a deal."

Carl started his car and peeled out back onto the road, leaving behind thick black tire marks. "Alright, sit tight, i'm coming, don't do anything til i get there." he hung up the phone and put both hands on the wheel, stomping down on the gas pedal. Easter Basin was a short drive that consisted of Carl pulling the handbrake to make sharp turns while weaving in and out of traffic, not caring if he dented another car or tore off a bumper.

Eventually he pulled up behind Cesar's red lowrider, making sure to turn off his headlights well before approaching the dock. Cesar was crouched down behind a crate at the corner of a warehouse. "CJ!" he turned and hissed. "Hurry up, they're almost finished!"

Carl ducked down and moved up behind Cesar.

"There." Cesar pointed to the group of cars parked down by the cargo ship. "Guess we know why he hangs out around here now." he muttered, watching as Chi and a hispanic man exchanged duffel bags.

Carl nodded. "Damn...there's no way we can jack his ride here, we'll be torn to shreds by his friends." everyone, but Chi Kim, seemed to have a type of automatic weapon in their hand, while Carl and Cesar packed nothing but pistols. Carl watched as the group continued to talk before finally realizing where they were sitting. "Holy shit Ceeze, i got it!"

"What?" Cesar leaned down to listen to Carl's plan, his eyes growing wide as a smile crept across his face. "That's crazy Esse..."

"Yeah, but if we don't get him now who knows when we'll get another opportunity...we can't wait forever Cesar, we only have a couple weeks to get everything set." Carl argued. "If you can't handle the driving..."

Cesar straightened up, a determined look in his eyes. "I can handle anything with a gas pedal homes."

Carl smirked. "Alright, you gotta keep em distracted though, if they see me before i get into place we're both fucked."

* * *

Cesar stepped out from behind the crate, arms spread wide to show he was unarmed. "Chi Kim!" he called, walking down the dock toward the group of armed men while silently praying Carl had everything under control. "This is for the baby..." he hissed under his breath. "This is for the baby, this is for the baby..." he repeated the words quietly while walking down the dock.

"Who the fuck!" the hispanic man snapped while motioning for his men to take aim. Some pointed their automatic weapons at Chi and his friends, others pointed them at Cesar. "Who the hell is this vato, Chi!"

Chi Kim took a step forward and dropped the duffel bag into the trunk of his car. "I have no idea man, i swear." he said without looking at the hispanic man. "Who the hell are you?"

Cesar snorted. "Me? I'm just a guy who admires sweet rides...yours in particular...give it to me." he didn't stop walking, but he was taking it slow now. Chi's car was the closest thankfully...he was almost on it...the driver side door was still open. Chi apparently had no plans on sticking around, probably the exact opposite, a speedy get away.

Chi laughed, followed shortly by his crew-who held weapons on Cesar and the hispanic's men-all looking more than a little tense. "My fucking car? Are you fucked up in the head or something? Yo, ice this fool."

Cesar paused and held his hands up higher. "Hold up, hold up...i'm not here for a fight esse, i just want your ride...you can take your drugs, or money, whatever the fuck you put in the trunk, and walk away...or you can all die...easy enough choice."

The hispanic glared at Chi. "This some kind of fucking joke? You trying to rip me off motherfucker!"

Chi Kim turned from Cesar to the hispanic man. "No T, i would never...i don't know who this joker is..." he backed up as the hispanic-T apparently-drew an uzi from the back of his waistband.

Cesar watched as all eyes turned from him. "NOW!" Cesar yelled, ducking down and running to Chi Kim's car and diving into the driver's seat.

"What the fuck!" Chi yelled as Cesar sped off. "My drugs!" he turned to his men. "What the fuck are you waiting for, go get-" and then the crane started up.

T the hispanic's eyes widened as the massive magnet slammed down onto the pavement of the dock. "Wh-" he stopped short and dove out of the way as the magnet slid across the dock and slammed into the group of cars, throwing them out into the water along with several bodies. "Jesus christ!" he yelled, picking himself up from the pavement and running away as the magnet made another sweep, taking out Chi and his men with ease. "Who the hell was that guy?"


	3. You need to get rid of this

Two weeks, Four days until racing day...

Carl pulled his car into the garage next to a less than happy Cesar and Chi Kim's ride. A modified Sultan with a crappy custom paint job of a naked woman riding a dragon. "That shit was insane!" Carl laughed as he got out of his car and slammed the driver side door shut.

Cesar stood by the open trunk of the sultan, a grim expression on his face.

"What, there a dead body back there or something?" Carl smirked and walked back to stand next to Cesar. "...oh shit."

"My sentiment exactly, homes." Cesar sighed.

The trunk of the sultan was packed with cocaine, enough to supply half the state, not to mention land them in jail for a lifetime if they were caught with it. A problem...but a managable one. Chi Kim was sitting at the bottom of the bay, he wouldn't exactly be looking for his stolen coke. All they had to do was find someone to take it off their hands. Easy.

"Look, it's not that bad." Carl lied. "I'll call Woozie and he'll help us out."

"You sure about that esse?" Cesar looked at Carl skeptically, then back to the cocaine, then back to Carl before shutting the trunk. Out of sight out of mind.

"Of course." another lie. Woozie didn't touch cocaine, there were rules about it and he followed them. Maybe he'd make an exception? "Look, go to my place, you know where it is, have a drink, chill out. I'll call you if i need any help, okay?"

Cesar started to argue but Carl cut him off.

"Look man, if we get caught with this much white we're going away for a long time." Carl sighed. Why did this shit always happen to him? "You really want to see your daughter grow up from behind bars? You want to leave Kendl to raise your daughter by herself?"

"Alright, alright, shit, enough guilt," Cesar chuckled. "I'm going." he left the garage and Carl alone with a mountain of cocaine.

There was a time he would have dumped the shit in the ocean and he would have laughed about it the whole time. But now...now he had no money...a mountain of debt and a lot of favors he owed to people. There was also Sweet to think about, no matter whether or not his brother wanted to speak to him. This cocaine would bring enough money to fix so much, or at least patch the problem. Values meant nothing in the grand scheme of life...not now anyway, when he was the only person keeping everyone else's head above water, no matter that he was drowning in the process.

* * *

"Tell me you have other things in this trunk that i'm feeling." Woozie grunted as he ran his hand around the various packages of cocaine.

Carl started to shake his head but caught himself in time. "No, it's all white."

Woozie hissed through his teeth and slammed the trunk shut. "There's a hell of a lot more than you told me about." he snapped. "There has to be half a million here, more in street value." he slid his sunglasses off with his right hand and rubbed his temples with his left. "Do i even want to know where you got this much?"

Carl exhaled heavily through his nostrils. "Probably best that you don't." things had changed in San Fierro, Carl wasn't well versed on who was fighting who anymore. For all he knew he'd ripped off a friend of the triad.

Woozie slid his glasses back on. "Alright..." he turned in Carl's general direction. "You know i don't deal in cocaine, there are rules and i have to follow them. My advice to you is to dump this shit in the bay before whoever you stole it from shows up to take it back." he turned to leave but Carl placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Wooze," Carl pleaded. "I know about your rules and normally i wouldn't ask...but we all need the money." Woozie wasn't even pulling in a quarter of what the casino made back before it had gone under. He was a laughing stock now, something this money could help him change if he spent it wisely. Carl knew that, Woozie knew it too.

And the promise of splitting the profits down the middle all but forced him to reconsider his stance on the rules.

"I'll ask around discretely, this much product shouldn't take long to garner interest." Woozie shrugged Carl's hand off of his shoulder and turned towards the door. "After that i think you and i shouldn't be seen together for a while." he didn't wait for a response, he put his hand out in front of him and walked through the garage door.

* * *

With the garage emptied out for the night Carl headed for his office. Cesar was staying at his place and more than anything Carl just wanted some time to himself, something he wouldn't get sharing a roof with his brother in law who'd want to do nothing but talk. Talk about the cars, the race, the baby, Kendl...and then about Sweet. That wasn't a topic Carl could handle, especially now.

He plopped into the dusty office chair with the torn leather back and the missing wheel on the bottom, opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of something with the label scratched off. It didn't matter what kind of alcohol it was, as long as it _was _alcohol.

Half the bottle later his mind was racing. Had he bitten off more than he could chew here? One car in and already he'd killed people, stolen a mountain of cocaine, and brought a lot of potential heat down on himself. Not just himself but his friends and family. Why did he always fuck everything up? There was still one more car to get...christ only knew what was going to happen when they found a suitable one and went to get it. Would they burn down half the city or just an orphanage?

The sound of glass breaking pulled Carl out of his liquor fueled inner rant of self loathing.

"I'm here now man," the voice came from the garage. "The place you told me to be muthafucka, what else would mean here?"

Carl snapped into action, sliding out of his chair while grabbing the pistol from his waistband. He creeped over to the office door, making sure to stay low so the intruder didn't spot him through the office window that looked out over the garage. Slowly he pulled the door open and peered out.

"A'ight, i see the car, hit your cell in a second." Carl watched as a thin man in a black hoodie- hood pulled over his head making it hard for Carl to make out the wearer- walked over to Chi Kim's car and put an elbow through the driver side window.

That was all Carl needed to see before pulling the trigger. Four shots and only one hit the intruder.

"My leg!" the thin man fell to the dirty garage floor screaming.

Carl stumbled out of his office, gun...sort of trained on the thin man. His vision was blurry and his head was swimming. "You picked the wrong fucking garage!" he yelled, putting another bullet in the garage floor.

"Wait!" the thin man squealed, putting his hands up. Were Carl not so drunk he might have noticed the hint of urine in the air. "CJ, it's me homie!" the thin man pulled the hood back and Carl almost lost it.

"Loc?"


	4. You need to believe me

"You believe him?" Cesar asked Carl quietly as the man closed the office door behind him. Carl had called him several hours ago, instructing him to bring every weapon CJ had hidden in his apartment. It had put Cesar on high alert, uncertain what exactly was happening. When he'd arrived, gym bag of guns in hand, to the sight of Carl duct taping a sobbing OG Loc, some of his fear abated. The two had spent nearly every moment since Cesar's arrival interrogating, threatening, nearly torturing, the sobbing man tied to the broken office chair in the garage's dirty office.

Every secret Loc had, came out that night. "Which part? The thing with the pickle; or the prison showers being a good place to pick up overweight racists looking for a good time?" Carl laughed as he and his brother in law walked over to Chi Kim's car, leaning on its hood and looking back at the office. Both could hear the sobs coming from it even while across the garage. "Honestly? I don't. That shit about him only looking for a car and hearing about us maybe having Chi's through the grapevine…doesn't add up."

"You think he saw us jump the deal at the bay?" Cesar was still waiting for the other shoe to drop on that one. You didn't jump deals like that and walk away to die of old age.

Carl shrugged. "How the fuck else did he find us? Saw us there, followed us here, makes sense. Was probably gonna jump it for hisself we just beat it to him. If he was gonna jump it though, that means he ain't alone."

"You said he was on the phone before you shot him?" Cesar reminded his friend.

"I did…?" Carl shook his head, still a little drunk from the mystery liquor he'd found in the desk drawer in the office. "Right, right. Whoever he was talking to before I shot him's probably gonna come lookin' for him sooner or later." That had been the only subject Loc wouldn't talk about, always dodging the questions or admitting to some other terrible thing he'd done in his life to throw his captors off.

"We should clear out then, homes." Cesar moved away from the hood of the car. "Take the one car we got, stash it somewhere else and tune it there, lay low and bide our time until the race." Cesar hadn't always been one to shy away from violence, but his wife had started to tame him a little. The impending birth of his daughter had cooled him down even more. Before long he'd be working some nine to five dead end job and driving a mini van.

"What about the second car?" Carl countered. "What about the coke? We need another car man, and the space to work on it. The garage at my apartment ain't exactly the place I want to be stashin a couple of stolen rides at, especially when one has a felony amount of drugs in its trunk. It's not really equipped to work on em either."

"Chi's ride's pretty fit to race as it is, esse. A couple of replacement parts, a new paint job, she'll be good to go." He ran his hand along the hood of the car as he spoke. "We could do the race in the same car, forget the hassle of a second one-"

"That don't exactly increase our odds of winning though." Carl muttered, getting up and moving away from the car. "Listen, you take the car, I'll call up some back up and watch the garage to see who shows lookin for his ass." He motioned to the office where Loc still sat sobbing. "I'll have this shit cleared up by the end of the day. If not…" he looked at the office. "I'll start shooting low and work my way up, figure when I start nearing his waist he'll get real talkative."

Cesar grimaced and shook his head. "We don't need to go to war esse, not over this." He reached out to put a hand on Carl's shoulder.

Carl slapped it away. "Listen, you want to hide, hide, I'm tired of sitting around drinking and waiting for something to happen." Carl's life these last few years hadn't been the best. Losing everything he'd worked so hard for, watching it get eaten away by everyone around him couldn't have been easy. Then Sweet…the only thing Carl had done since was drink. "Take the fucking car," he fished around in his jeans for a moment before throwing a set of keys at Cesar. "You go lay low, I'll take care of everything, I always do." He spat before storming out of the garage.

* * *

"You believe me now muthafucka?" Loc's voice was hoarse from sobbing for the past five or six hours. He and Carl had been sitting in the office ever since Cesar had left. Carl had called Woozie, asking for one last favor. It had taken some convincing, but it came down to Woozie needing to make sure Carl survived long enough for them to sell the cocaine in Chi's trunk. So the triad had positioned themselves across the street from the garage, watching and waiting for anyone suspicious. "No one's coming for me man, I told you already. I was watching the deal, yeah, I admit it. But I wasn't after anything other than that chink's car, you gotta believe me man!"

"So who was on the phone then?" Carl asked from his perch on the end of the rusty bare metal desk in front of Loc. "Your moms?"

Loc looked from Carl to his feet. "…sw…t…" he whispered, just too low for Carl to understand. A quick rap on the knee with the butt of Carl's pistol made him speak up. "SWEET, it was SWEET! Jesus nigga I think you shattered my knee cap!" the name was like a sack of bricks over the head.

"What…? Why? Why the fuck would he work with you?" Carl wasn't sure how to feel. Sweet…he'd been eclipsed by Carl after everything had happened. His brother had never been a jealous man, but it was hard to see something you'd spent your whole life building be taken away from you by someone better. Worse when that someone better was your baby brother who not even a year before had been a busta ass laughing stock.

Carl had fallen into drinking after the dust had settled, but Sweet…when people started talking about him behind his back, cracking jokes about needing his brother just to wipe his own ass…he'd gotten violent. At first it was a brawl here and there, but then guys started getting taken out. Stabbed, shot, beaten to death, run over in the middle of the night. At first everyone pointed at the few smaller sets who still remained in Los Santos, the few ballas, the vagos, a couple of the newer small fries. In the end Carl had found out the truth. He'd given Sweet a bag of cash and the option to walk away, otherwise…if he didn't end him someone else would. You didn't kill your own people…green on green wouldn't fly anymore now that he was back reppin' the set. No exceptions, even for family. Sweet took the money without a word and disappeared. Carl had reached out repeatedly since then, never getting anything back.

"Why do you think man?" Loc whimpered, looking at his swelling knee. "Me an' him got something in common. Your ass fucking us over." He leaned forward against his duct tape restraints. "He sent me here for the car, alright? He heard about you an' the spic getting into the race, guess he wanted in too. Show your ass up or somethin'. Already helped him steal one car up in venturas, some rich asshole's show car. Told me if I helped him again I'd get some of the money when he won, enough to get some studio time, get my comeback started."

Loc continued talking, mentioning he'd written better rhymes, that stealing cars and illegal street racing would be good for his street cred, but Carl ignored him. He walked out of the office in a daze. Sweet was alive at least, but that was the only up side to the situation. Carl absentmindedly pulled his phone from his pocket and called the triads outside, telling them to go, everything was handled. Then he dialed Cesar.

"Sup esse, everything good at the garage? You alright?" his brother in law sounded more than a little concerned. "You need me? I can be there in a flash, just say the word."

"Yeah, but not for what you think." Carl said, staring down at the dirty garage floor. "I think I just found us a second ride…"


End file.
